Snow transforms Waveland golf course into the Matterhorn

Jan. 24, 2014

Mark Marturello/Register Illustration

Written by

Mike Wellman | | Special to The Register

Let’s see, there’s Graceland, a shrine to the peanut butter and banana sandwich. There are Neverland and Wonderland, but only on page, stage or DVD. And then there’s Waveland — an up-and-down metaphor for life itself that’s a playful place whether white or green or even under cover of night.

There are 18 holes and countless hills. It’s home to deer and fox, among other critters, including eagles and other sorts of birdies. Good heavens, there’s even an observatory despite so much to see with naked eyes. Standing on the third tee box affords a view of what feels like an empire looking south, especially to a golfer who arrives there at par or better through two holes.

Waveland boasts of being the oldest public golf course west of the Mississippi River. It opened for that purpose in 1901, one of many Iowa layouts, including Grandview, which dates to the following year, designed by links legend Warren Dickinson, a member of the Register’s Iowa Sports Hall of Fame. But it serves many others. Who knows how long area youngsters had already been sledding the undulated lay of that land by the time Dickinson plotted the property for use as a greener pasture? In that youthful spirit of turning lemons into lemonade, kids innately know how best to weather winter.

Veteran Governor Terry Branstad suffered a broken jaw 21 years ago during an outing at Waveland with his then 8-year-old son, Marcus. “I say, free sleds for all politicians,” Jay Leno wisecracked on “The Tonight Show.” “Doctors say he might not be able to talk out of both sides of his mouth ever again.”

In 1921, when the city and a private university forged a unique partnership to build an observatory and equip it with some expertise to go along with the telescope, Daniel Morehouse was a professor of physics and astronomy at Drake and got the nod as the first official stargazer. Legend holds that the observatory is haunted to this day by the ghosts of Morehouse and his wife, Myrtle, both of whose ashes are interred there.

But the spirit of the course architect maintains a more tangible presence.

Diana Dickinson is a great-granddaughter of Warren, who grew up across the freeway from Waveland and still lives not far from there. Both she and her older sister, Pam, captained the golf team at nearby Roosevelt during their high school days. “I’ve gotten many a bruise sledding — both as a kid and with my own kids — on the course,” she said. “And my son, Walt, loves to snowboard there.” Diana and Pam’s late father, the namesake of his hall-of-fame grandfather, was a fine golfer in his own right who set more than one course record in these parts during his heyday. When the Macvicar Freeway was built in the early 1960s it required some rerouting at Waveland and also led to an unorthodox practice range in the Dickinson backyard at the dead end of 54th Street.

Their father used to deploy Diana and Pam with binoculars to alert him when a group was readying to hit approach shots on hole No. 16. Then he’d drop a few range balls in the yard, select the appropriate arrow from his quiver and swat them over the traffic whizzing past between him and his target. The girls kept an amused watch as confused foursomes arrived to find more balls on the green than they could account for.

“I also remember ice skating at the end of Observatory Road in the ’70s. There was a warming house, too,” Diana now fondly recalls. “Pam really loved Waveland. She met her husband playing golf there.”

From spring to autumn, the steep slope that runs parallel to University Avenue along Waveland’s northern boundary is simply No. 9, a challenging par four with a blind approach shot to a slick green that tilts from the parking lot toward oncoming golfers. This time of year it’s a municipal Matterhorn, the most popular sledding run, and the fairway gets crisscrossed with ruts made by toboggans, snowboards and saucer sleds. On the flatter lowlands, cross-country skiers make their ways more solitarily. Since the property management was privatized, the course clubhouse now becomes a ski lodge whenever conditions allow (there has to be at least a 4-inch base of snow).

Those who visit Waveland strictly to golf and find the par three No. 2 daunting enough in that context might not understand why more wintry types push off from the tee box and plunge straight down the steep waste area that must be traversed to reach that green. Golf balls are never aimed there purposely. Why are sleds? Maybe it’s because their pilots know that gulch as “Devil’s Hill.”

Maybe the place warrants a new logo. Something along the lines of a golfer in snowshoes and fur-lined Tam O’Shanter with ear flaps and chin strap.

Growing up mere blocks away on Kingman Boulevard, we towed our sleds to the slopes on foot. I used to bounce down the Matterhorn just like topped drives do down the ninth fairway. The downside to those outings, if that’s the right word here, was the return tow. The roads home were flat but after afternoon runs on our Flexible Flyers it always felt like we were plodding up a staircase.

The Winter Olympics don’t start until Feb. 7, and this is Des Moines, not Sochi. Still, if you’re looking for a mood-setter, head for these hills. But play out your Lolo Jones/Karlos Kirby bobsled fantasies at your own risk. As of last fall the Des Moines City Council has amended Chapter 74 of the Municipal Code to serve the dual purpose of keeping the historic grounds open while protecting the city from lawsuits filed by citizen alpinists. Apparently there’s been a spate of litigious lugers in other jurisdictions of late. And let’s face it, winter sport can be dangerous as well as fun, right Governor? The regulatory jargon of the new ordinance boils down to this: Good luck, have fun and don’t come crying to us in the event of a mishap that lays you up ’til the spring thaw.

What a shame to miss the first round of the year because of an ankle broken in a toboggan pileup. On the other hand, 18 holes with a cart on a weekend morning runs $45. In February it’s all the hills you can handle for free. Get out there and go for the cold, oops, gold!